Jesus in his compassion forgave them; perhaps they really did not recognize him, but the priest was bound to, for he sang his praises all day. Then along came the padre. The noisy crowd became silent as he approached. Then one by one, they touched his feet – such is the world: it will stone God but it will prostrate before those who make business out of him.
“This is blasphemy!” exclaimed Jesus.
“Keep quiet,” said the people. “If the priest hears you, he will feel insulted.” This drew the priest’s attention. “Who is this rascal?” he asked, “Bring him to me.”
“You too do not recognize me?” Jesus asked the priest, “And you wear my cross around your neck!”
But Jesus overlooked the fact that the cross he was hung on was made of wood, while the cross that hung around the priest’s neck was made of gold. Was ever a cross to hang a man by made of gold? And it is the man who is hung on the cross and not the cross on the man!
“This man looks like Satan himself,” proclaimed the priest, “Our Jesus came to earth but once. There is no need for him to come again. Now we are here to look after his work.”
So Jesus was locked up in the attic of the church, he was shocked! This was the same kind of treatment he had received eighteen hundred years ago. “Will I be crucified again?” he wondered.
The priest came to visit him in the middle of the night. He fell at his feet and begged forgiveness. “I recognized you alright, Oh glorious one! But we are constrained to deny you in the marketplace. You need not take the trouble of coming again. We are carrying out your work with all sincerity. Business is good, and if you come there is bound to be confusion. We have barely got things going smoothly and you come again! Please understand, we cannot acknowledge you in public. Not only that, we might have to resort to the same tactics to disown you, as we did eighteen hundred years ago. Please forgive us; we are helpless.”
The same will be the fate of Krishna or Mahavira or Mohammed, if they chose to come again. We little realize that those whose words we cling to, have clearly warned us not to; for truth is not in words. Truth is present in the “wordless” silence, where all thoughts are absent.
Truth will not be in my words, nor in the words of anybody else. Then why do I speak? – to snatch your words away from you. If my words, like the thorn, can pick out the words from within you, I will have attained my end. Then you will be freed from my words as well as the words within. Then the mind, devoid of words, is ready to set out toward truth. It is a matter of great regret, that instead of grasping the essence of the message of those who come to liberate us, we merely catch hold of their persons.